The Cowboy MEGAPACK ®. Owen Wister

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СКАЧАТЬ Houston replied. “It makes me mad to be shot at.”

      The three cowboys at the bar left it and started walking slowly toward the table, Ed Foster in the middle. Houston reached down and shifted his holster, then went on playing stud. The Three S men stopped a few feet from the table and looked at him. Ed Foster did the talking.

      “Stranger, you got a little rough with me across the street, and I was for fillin’ you full of lead. But these cowhand friends of mine talked me out of it.”

      “You’re right, they’re your friends,” Houston said. “They probably saved your life for you.”

      “Bein’ a stranger, and not knowin’ the situation here, no doubt it did make you mad for me to try to keep you from goin’ into the tradin’ post. So the boys told me to overlook it and explain everything.”

      “You’re wise to overlook it,” Houston told him. “But mebbe I’d better do the explainin’. I’m a stranger, all right, but I know the situation. I heard all about it.”

      “Then we’ll give you fair warnin’. Sid Jarles don’t want anybody to trade with Brandell.”

      “He’ll have to tell me that hisself, and even then it won’t do any good.”

      “You think yu’re bigger than Jarles and the whole Three S outfit?” Ed Foster asked angrily. “Think you can ride into this town and do as you please?”

      “I can go into the tradin’ post any time I want, at least,” Houston said. “Nobody’s got a better right.”

      “A better right? What you mean by that?”

      “I own an interest in the tradin’ post. I just closed the deal—bought an interest from Brandell.”

      “Brandell’s made a fool out of you then, and you’ve bought only a mess of trouble.”

      “Nobody’s made a fool out of me. I bought the interest after I knew all about the trouble. And you can take word from me to Sid Jarles that I won’t stand for any of his interference. If he don’t want to trade at the post, that’s his business. But he won’t scare other folks away.”

      “Oh, he won’t?”

      “That’s right, he won’t! You take that word to him. If he wants to argue with me about it any, he’ll find me here in town in the mornin’. I’ve got money tied up in that tradin’ post now, and no ranch owner with a grouch ’cause a girl wouldn’t look at him is goin’ to wreck my investment. You can tell Sid Jarles for me that I think he’s actin’ like a half-baked button.”

      “If we tell him you said that, you’re as good as planted right now.”

      “Tell him, ’less you’re afraid to.”

      “Oh, we’ll tell him!” Ed Foster said. “And we’ll ride back into town in the mornin’ to see the fun.” He nodded to the other two Three S men. “Come on, boys. We’ll hit for the ranch and take this news to Sid. Mebbe Jake Walters will have a chance to catch up on his shootin’ practice.”

      “If your friend Jake is the Three S lead-slinger,” Houston told him, “tell him for me that he’d better not start actin’ up in my direction. I can be tough, too.”

      The Three S men almost choked. They stared at Houston an instant, then turned away to go out into the street. A moment later, hoof beats told that they had left for the ranch.

      “Very pretty, Mr. Houston—and very dangerous,” Silky Gadley said, in a low voice, as he shuffled the cards again. “Maybe you know what you’re doin’. You impress me as a man who does. However, make no mistake about Jake Walters. He’s good with a gun.”

      “So’m I,” Houston admitted. “I’d like to know who shot at me tonight, and why.”

      “Well, there are not many men in town,” Gadley replied. “I heard the shot, but thought it was only somebody tryin’ to make noise. I can tell you one thing—none of the Three S men shot at you. Two of them were in here at the time, and Ed Foster was on watch over at the tradin’ post.”

      * * * *

      As they continued their game of stud, somebody entered from the street and went to the head of the bar. The man behind it served him. Houston looked at the man who had entered with interest.

      “One of the local boys?” he asked Gadley.

      “Yes. His name is Sam Finch. Brandell fired him for stealin’. Sid Jarles plans to set him up in a new store and put Brandell out of business.”

      “So I’ve heard. Nervous cuss, ain’t he? He couldn’t have shot at me, for instance, ’cause of me buyin’ an interest in the tradin’ post? He couldn’t have known of it.”

      “Sam Finch is always nervous,” Silky Gadley said. “He’s been around Vista about a year, and he’s been nervous all that time. When a man watches his back trail and shows a lot of interest in every stranger—”

      “Yeah,” Houston broke in, nodding. “When he does that, he’s afraid that his past might catch up with him.”

      A waddling fat woman came from the rear of the room with a big tray of food, put it upon one of the tables, looked toward Houston and grunted. Houston settled with Gadley and strolled over to the other table to eat.

      He glanced toward Sam Finch, who still stood at the bar, and found Finch watching him. The man downed his drink at a gulp and left the saloon. Houston devoured the meal which had been put on the table.

      Silky Gadley meandered to the front door and looked out, and as he returned he stopped beside the table where Houston was sitting.

      “If you’ve really bought an interest in the tradin’ post—” Gadley said, his voice low.

      “I have. I wasn’t foolin’.”

      “You may be in for serious trouble, then. Sid Jarles has been running things with a high hand in this part of the country for some time. He’s got plenty of enemies, but his enemies haven’t had anybody to lead ’em.” Gadley added, thoughtfully, “They may be on hand, however, if trouble starts.” He raised his voice. “Well, Mr. Houston, come in and try your luck at poker when you’ve got some time. Maybe we can get a game goin’.”

      “Thanks,” Houston replied. “I may do that.”

      Gadley went back to his table, sat down and lit a cigar. Houston finished his meal, went to the bar and paid for it. The bartender eyed him as he made change, and spoke from the corner of his mouth so nobody else could hear:

      “If you get into a brawl with Jake Walters, remember that he always squints his eyes quick-like when he’s goin’ for his gun.”

      “Thanks,” Houston replied, picking up his change.

      This town has been under Sid Jarles”, thumb so long that some folks are gettin’ tired of it. You’ll have friends,”

      “Know who shot at me?” Houston whispered, as he got out materials to make a cigarette.

      “No. СКАЧАТЬ